


Sexophone

by PennyForTheGuy



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Audialphilia, Established Relationship, M/M, Male/Male sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5852149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennyForTheGuy/pseuds/PennyForTheGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys hid a talent or two. Hiding the ability to play the saxophone from Jack was either the best or worst decision he made. Scales lean towards best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexophone

Jack found out when he arrived early at Rhys’ apartment; extremely out of character for him. He’d gotten bored with the late meetings and smacked one of the executives out of way heading for the door. Also unusual as for him boredom normally meant someone was going to die to relieve it.

But having a good long weekend with his favorite fuck buddy (boyfriend but don’t dare say it out loud) was too nice to wait for any longer. Vaughn was home too and Jack gave him the courtesy of a,

“‘Sup?” before strolling blithely past him and into Rhys’ room.

Rhys was sitting at his computer desk with big noise canceling headphones on his ears. A weird and slow clicking was coming from him that didn’t sound like typing. Jack slowly shut the door behind him and devilish grin crept onto his face as he crept across the room. What better way to start the weekend than by catching Rhys doing something embarrassing.

Jack carefully turned himself around Rhys’ back to see what he was doing without entering his field of vision.

His fuck buddy (boyfriend) had an audio program going on his screen but wasn’t listening to anything. In his hands was a small, electronic saxophone. It almost looked like some toy, all cheap silver plastic and odd shapes. But Rhys seemed to be genuinely playing the thing, to the point that his eyes were closed and he was intently focused on whatever music he was playing. Jack doubted, highly doubted that whatever he was producing could be called music.

He crossed his arms and hovered above Rhys a few moments before clapping a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

Rhys had his trademarked reaction. Hilarious combination of high pitched squawking and subsequent choking, failing limbs and a good three foot floor clearance. Jack fell back on the bed with the laughing fit it gave him.

“Jack you ASSHOLE!” Rhys screamed weakly, “Why couldn’t you call me or something?”

“I-I hehehehe, I thou- hahahehe,” Jack held up his finger and took a breath.

“I thought I might catch you doing something stupid,” he paused for leaking giggles, “And I was right! Saxophone? Fucking _saxophone_? Saxophone!”

Jack couldn’t stop repeating the word saxophone and braying like a damn hyena. Rhys gave him looks that could have curdled milk but looks never did anything to Jack.

“Thought you could what? Seduce people or something? I mean why would you even-”

Rhys yanked the chord to the headphones out of the computer and took right back up on the song. ‘Baker Street’ anyone with any taste in music could recognize that tune anywhere.

The saxophone came in first, strong, brash, and perfectly played. The program restarted as Rhys played and followed his lead, setting a fast tempo for the classic song.

‘Baker Street’ was passionate and proud and tasted like a big, shining, modern city. Jack never thought of music in terms of hearing. Music made him smell things, see them, good music always set his mind alight.

Rhys played a pro in a jazz lounge, Jack sat up watching him, watching his fingers as his played the notes. Rhys was not faking it, he could play. Jack had stopped laughing his face was set and serious as he watched his boyfriend.

The song played and Jack felt heat flowing through him, it just made him want to get up and move. It made him want to dance or walk; do something in time with it. You strut to this song, you sway to it, you make love to it.

When the music stopped and Rhys looked at him, Jack held up his hands in utter defeat. No words needed.

“When’d you learn?” Jack asked, his voice a little husky.

“Started back in middle school.” Rhys felt a little chafed still but smug, “Wasn’t popular, wanted to play something cool to get attention. I sucked balls at first but I started finding stuff I liked to play. Started enjoying just playing the music. The better I got the less I wanted to share. It's always been great stress relief. But like you just experienced,” Rhys shot him a look, “people don’t really believe me when I tell them I’m a saxophonist. Plus Vaughn hates it.”

Rhys scoffed as pulled the cords from the instrument and began putting it away in its case.

“How the fuck could anyone hate that?” Jack asked. From his tone he was being genuine for once.

“Vaughn is about as musically inclined as a deaf skag. Play for them both get the same reaction. I actually got the electronic sax cause of his whining and bitching whenever I practiced.”

“So...you like; have a real one?”

“Yup.” Rhys tapped his toe on a case hidden under his bed. “Big ‘ol baritone. Poor boy barely gets out anymore.”

Jack had to cross his legs to stop _all_ the blood in his body from going straight to his crotch.

“Grab it kiddo.”

“Huh?” Rhys barely had time to look up from his light packing before Jack was rooting around under his bed.

“Nevermind, got it!”

The black leather case was huge, and Jack got a childlike grin just from holding it.

“Your old friend is going a weekend trip cupcake!”

  


Back at Jack’s penthouse they set up in the bedroom. Jack was buzzing around the place getting wine, toys, lube, more wine and even candles. Rhys could not help but grin watching him as he set up a laptop with his composition program and plugged in a microphone. Jack was having a field day with this newly discovered talent of his. And what kind of person would he be if he didn't milk it?

Finally Jack stripped off all his upper layers and positioned himself on the bed, propped up on his plush pillows and a glass and bottle within easy reach.

“Okay kiddo, you ready? I’m ready. I’m hella ready. Slay me!”

Rhys smirked and set the program to follow him with a full orchestra, then picked up his horn. It was a shining brass beauty well over three feet long. It twisted in an elegant way and its keys and mechanics looked like jewelry on its sleek body.

He played a few experimental notes first, making sure the new reed was fitted correctly and the program was following properly. Damn it felt good to have a real horn in his hands again. The deep notes resonated in the air and he saw Jack tense up just a bit as he played the higher ones. The man looked liable to blow and he hadn’t played yet.

“Oh, one more thing…” Rhys added; a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“Yeah kitten?”

Rhys ran his mechanical hand through his amber hair, mussing it just a bit. He’d kicked off his shoes and ditched his vest and tie, leaving just his tight slacks and shirt and colorful socks. He was milking this for every last drop.

“Let me get a couple of songs out, then we’ll play. You don’t interrupt a musician halfway through a song do you?”

He unbuttoned his shirt some as he spoke. Jack swallowed heavy but couldn’t take his eyes off Rhys’ hand as it worked.

“No babe, never. I’ll let you play. I’ll let you play…” His words trailed off as Rhys brought the mouthpiece back to his lips and Jack looked up to him with gleaming eyes, hungry for more audial delight.

What he got was the less than sexy and very unwelcome start to ‘Yakety Sax’, perfectly backed by that computer produced orchestra. Jack clapped his hands over his ears and it was all Rhys could do to play through the giggling.

“Cupcake! NO! No no no no! Not fair!”

Rhys spat out the mouthpiece and kept giggling.

“I’m sorry Jack I couldn’t resist.”

“Imma get you back for that ass. I’m going to blow raspberries on your stomach every time you think you’re getting a blow job for the next month. Now play some real music.”

Now Rhys couldn’t stop laughing as he leaned back down to the keyboard. Jack tapped his foot on air and gave his partner some ugly looks.

“I don’t think you get how good this could be for you kiddo.”

“Oh I do.” Rhys answered.

Jack opened his mouth again but forgot what he was going to say. The program was pumping out something with a tempo as fast as his jiggling foot played on a drum set and trumpet. Rhys joined in on his sax and started playing the most spastic but catchy music Jack had heard in a long time.

It changed melodies fast but smoothly. It wasn’t meant for any lyrics, there wasn’t room for them. This music was about the three instruments; it almost sounded like they were fighting with each other for the spotlight but it worked so well.

It was like the excitable cousin of jazz. And Rhys was not quite the slow, sultry player Jack had seen in his mind’s eye. The kid was outright dancing as he played, doing some mighty fancy foot work and even stomping with the music. He was having a damn good time and Jack was right along with him. He wasn’t sure if he should get up and dance but he wanted to so bad he got out of his reclined position and knelt on all fours without realizing it.

By the time the song came to its dangerous sounding end (kinda looked like those three instruments were past words and taking things outside) Rhys was red in the face and had a good glisten on him. Jack was practically drooling onto the floor.

“Hey Jackie, close that thing up before you get cobwebs in it.” Rhys murmured, still a little out of breath. More hair was out of place now, and he looked so damn sexy.

“What was that stuff?”

“People call it ‘Brasshouse’ style. It’s fucking fun to play.”

“Fucking fun to listen to, I couldn’t decide what to do.”Jack licked his lips watching Rhys huff and smooth a few strands back. His body made such a lean and sexy profile, especially with that big heavy saxophone hanging off his neck.

“One more song baby boy.” Jack husked, leaning back onto the pillows. “And make me melt. I mean it. I want to be jello when you’re done.”

“Got a thing for musicians huh?” Rhys cocked a brow at him.

“Nah, music in general. Can’t play it worth a damn but boy it ties me in knots to hear it. One of my best lays ever plays one of the sexiest instruments ever? Fuckin A pumpkin. I’m sorry you couldn’t try to be more perfect.”

Rhys felt more blood rushing to his cheeks with the copious praise, and with the sight of Jack’s bulging jeans. Jack’s body was already flushed, even the tips of his ears were turning red. It wasn’t often anymore Rhys worked him up this good before they even started.

Rhys considered just a moment before putting his lush lips back to the mouthpiece.

This one had the same big city flavor as ‘Baker Street’ but sounded more melancholy in its slower beat.

‘Baker Street’ was young, wide eyed and full of zeal. This music had seen years go by and had been beaten up but not beaten down.

It was almost mournful but it didn't make Jack feel sad. No, watching Rhys handle his horn in the low candlelight he felt hot; sticky hot. Rhys still danced and swayed as he played, locking onto Jack’s eyes burning him with a sultry gaze only musicians on stage could ever manage. Jack felt a warm shiver go down his body that itchy get-up-and-move feeling he’d been struggling with took over and he inched to edge of the bed.

His jeans were painfully tented and he stood up and reached out for Rhys, who backed away and gave Jack a raised brow and waved a finger at him, never stopping the music.

Jack swallowed and lowered himself back down slowly, trying to just enjoy the music but he couldn’t.

Rhys had him in the palm of his hand. He had to touch, he had to do something. He could grind into the bed covers with Rhys played on but that involved getting further away from his lover. Nuh-uh, no good.

He sunk down to the floor, getting on his knees. The sight made Rhys feel a little wobbly himself but he didn’t dare stop. He did slow the tempo and Jack whined. He inched forward and rubbed his face against Rhys’ leg. The younger man couldn’t help the smile tugging the corners of his mouth when he noticed Jack was humping air just a little.

He’d been given a damn fine gift tonight no doubt about that. Rhys poured some of his building passion into the song, lifting Jack’s head with a foot to look him in the eye as it finished.

“Sax in the City.” Rhys husked, holding the mouthpiece close to his lips making Jack worry just a tad.

“Climb back into bed hero. I got my songs. Now you get your play.”

Jack responded by nipping, kissing and groping his way up Rhys’ leg. He was biting hard enough to leave some good marks even through the pant leg. When he got up to his boyfriend’s zipper his hovered, running his mouth over the line of his cock and grabbing good handfuls of young pert ass.

Rhys tucked his saxophone behind one arm slightly, to allow Jack more room. When he looked down he was met with as desperate and smouldering a look as the older man had ever given him.

Jack flicked up the grip of Rhys’ zipper with his nose and just barely took it into his teeth, raking it down slowly. Rhys swallowed thickly and braced himself. Jack hardly ever sucked him off but when he did; gods the man’s mouth was like a vacuum device.

When the zipper was open Jack gently fished out his half hard cock and took it all in just a little too easily. Rhys bit back a cry and braced himself on the night stand, his legs threatening to give out.

Jack put an extraordinary amount of passion into his ministrations; it felt almost like he’d take Rhys’ dick right off.

As much as he hated it he had to push Jack back. The weight of saxophone was threatening to topple him even without Jack making him go weak in the knees. He carefully leaned the instrument on the nightstand and pulled Jack up and inched him back to the bed, kissing the life out of him all the way.

Rhys had a pretty good idea in his head of how things were going to progress as Jack pinned and stripped him. Those big, rough hands were going to play him like he played his horn and he was going to get filled up nice and good the thick cock he could clearly see straining against the older man’s jeans.

At this point Rhys could hear Jack’s zipper crying. He relished every kiss and hickey and nip has Jack worked all the way down his freshly naked body and then back up, moaning and babbling praise the whole way.

“You wanna get those pants off, boss man?” Rhys purred.

Jack grinned and flipped on his back for Rhys to peel them off. He had to suppress a giggle when he got them open and Jack’s engorged cock sprung free, with some visible zipper imprints. He yanked the too tight jeans off finally and crawled up to straddle Jack.

“How’ you want me to ride?” he asked, cheekily tweaking a nipple and biting his lip.

“Oh kitten, baby boy, you’re not riding tonight.” Jack said, his eyes practically burning with lust.

Rhys was floored. He could barely manage a ‘huh?’ before Jack pulled him off to get his legs around Rhys’ waist.

“I wanna take a turn babe. You’ve got me burning up like I haven’t felt in a long, long time.”

He grabbed Rhys’ flesh hand brought it down to his ass, pressing his fingertips against the heat of his entrance. Rhys whined at the touch, at the thought topping Jack for the first time; he could damn near explode from the rush feelings and the tidal wave of animal want.

He very slowly pushed a finger in and Jack hissed throwing his head back in the pillow. Rhys worried a moment he was hurting him but Jack just let out a string of praises and Rhys felt the ring of muscle flutter and relax around his finger.

Jack had done this before and Rhys’ mouth went a little dry briefly considering how much and how often he may have. Rhys reached over with his right hand while still gently working at Jack to grab lube; and hey it was in reach so he turned his music back on.

This time it just played through all the pieces Rhys’ had played previously. The feature let Rhys appraise his performances and Jack’s eyes rolled back into his head to hear the saxophone again.

The next few minutes were filled with heavy breathing, grinding, squelching of lube and fingers and moan after moan after moan just under the proud music.

Jack’s skin was nearly crawling but in a good way. He sat up as Rhys fingered him and ground down, yanking Rhys close enough to suck his neck and rub their faces together.

Rhys pushed him back down and dipped his head to suck Jack off as he slipped a third finger in. His idol was making some noises and pleas he never dared to imagine he’d ever hear.

So many groans of ‘Yes yes yes!’ and ‘Please more!’ and best of all so far,

“Perfect Rhysie, fuck you’re already fuckin’ me perfect!”

When ‘Baker Street’ was winding down and Rhys pulled off him with a light slurping sound and bellowed repeat at his computer to keep it going and not ruin the mood with more yakety sax.

Rhys kept up the foreplay, pleasuring Jack out of his mind while warring with himself internally. He’d dreamed of fucking Jack, actually fucking him but he was very afraid that he’d just nut himself the instant he got inside. Chances were fairly good he’d do so even sooner.

His neglected cock was rock hard and weeping pre, he could feel hot jolts of arousal with Jack’s every whimper and clench.

While Rhys doubted Jack lost patience. Without warning he reached down and gripped Rhys’ wrist hard enough to leave marks pushed his hand back, only to use his hold yank him up to eye level.

“You insufferable tease.” he hissed. Jack was a sight right now, hair completely ruined and dripping sweat, his skin flushed and gleaming, his face so red it was nearly visible even beneath the mask.

Rhys gulped as he got caught in the laser intensity of his mismatched eyes. He’d only seen that kind of ravenous look a few times before. Usually when Jack _needed_ to kill someone, but once, just once early on in their little arrangement.

“Get on that desk and give it up princess,” he’d growled then, “You belong to me; and don’t fuckin’ ask why.”

Different words this time, same smoldering, almost rage filled tone.

“You earned something every damn person in six galaxies wants kiddo. So don’t toy around with it, take it already. I haven't done this in years because no one was worth it.”

Rhys felt he might just explode; implode and then explode again. Luckily his body made up for his useless brain and next then he knew he was slicked up, lined up and with one last bracing breath he was pushing in.

Jack rumbled in his chest, his eyes half shut lost in ecstasy as Rhys just gaped at how easy it was from him to slip into the hilt. He had to make himself breathe slowly as the sensations of _hot_ , _wet_ , _tight_ and _holy fuck..._ ** _grabbing me!_** threatened make him cum then and there.

The first minutes he kept his thrusts small and shallow while Jack tilted his hips up and started meeting the thrusts. His expression almost made Rhys think he was in pain.

“Feelin’ good handsome?” He purred in his boss’s ear.

“Fuck yeah.” Jack slammed his hips down on him and clenched up making Rhys nearly pop a few blood vessels fighting the urge to cum.

“Harder.” Jack growled.

He could only obey his CEO and started pounding down into him as hard as he could while still keeping it slow. Rhys was starting to get more and more vocal now, his cries and heavy breathing slowly gaining volume with each thrust.

As lost as Jack looked he knew damn well the kid wasn’t going to last long. The act itself wasn’t getting him off tonight. Watching Rhys go to pieces even faster than he did when they first hooked up; hearing him almost hyperventilate through his thrusting; listening to the music this wreck can produce and thinking to himself ‘he is all mine’. That was getting him to the sweet edge.

Rhys babbled something incoherent and seized up, his back bowed and his head snapped back and Jack felt the warm rush in him.

He yanked Rhys down just a bit to get a look at his face and loved what he saw. There really wasn't a Rhys right now. There was a ball of nerves lighting up like a supernova, his boyfriend was experiencing ecstasy even most drugs couldn't get you.

His whole body was spasming with his orgasm and he couldn't see but he could feel Jack's hands running over his face and shoulders. He could feel the older man pulling him closer and clenching up around his still jolting cock.

Rhys started thrusting again, trying desperately in even his state to get Jack off. The CEO grabbed his hand and brought it to his dick, moaning obscenely as he got jerked to his own finish.

Rhys’ memory was patchy for the next hour or two. Hot splashes against his chest, lots of kissing, pulling out somewhere in there and more kissing. When he woke up from they’re little afterglow nap it was nearly 1 am. His laptop had long since fallen asleep.

Jack was still asleep too. Nothing short of gun shots woke that man after a good fuck. Rhys wondered whether he was thirsty or hungry enough to climb out of bed and leave him for a moment.

He wasn't. He just settled back down into Jack’s arms and drifted off again, welcomed by a sea of dreams about fucking his idol now fueled by experience and saxophones.

**Author's Note:**

> Will write a little epilogue soon. Brasshouse in an improvisational style I discovered with the band 'Too Many Zooz'. Look them up on YouTube.


End file.
